


The Personal Ad

by Tindomerelhloni



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blind Date, Dating, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Dating, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, personal ad, small amount of smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 18:19:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4715906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tindomerelhloni/pseuds/Tindomerelhloni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John stumbled upon a personal ad in the newspaper and responds to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Personal Ad

**Author's Note:**

> Was listening to the "Pina Colada" song, and I decided the world needed this.

"Bored!"   
  
Sherlock didn't look up as John walked down the stairs and into the sitting room. His declaration of boredom being the only acknowledgement that John got.   
  
"We could go out." John brushed past Sherlock and looked out the window at the busy street. It was Friday and the nightlife was just starting.   
  
"Humfff." Sherlock rolled over on the sofa, his back towards John.  
  
"Or not..." John sighed and went to make tea, their fall back. He always ended up making tea. As of late nothing seemed interesting enough for the bored detective. None of the cases Lestrade had to offer were "Worthy of my time, John."  
  
The kettle whistled and John sighed. He placed a cup of tea next to his annoying flatmate and tossed a biscuit onto His Royal Moodiness's chest.   
  
"A film then?" John flicked through the stack of DVD's. "I have the newest Hobbit Movie. Or there is..." John wasn't able to finish as Sherlock huffed and sat up, sending a stack of loose papers flying all over the floor. He bent and started to help pick them up but Sherlock grabbed them  roughly out of his hand.  
  
"The Hobbit is fine."  
  
Their eyes met and John seriously had to fight the urge to roll his eyes and stick out his tongue at his friend.  
  
"Fine."  
  
"Fine." Sherlock glared at John, daring him to say fine again.  
  
"What is all that anyway?" John asked as he stuck the DVD in the tray.  
  
"Work."  
  
"I gathered as much... I'm not stupid..."   
  
"Never said you were." Sherlock rolled his eyes and stuffed the papers down his trousers.  
  
"You could just ask me not to look at them, Sherlock. We're not children." John sat on  the sofa next to Sherlock and gave Sherlock a look that let him know just how annoying he was being tonight.   
  
"Well at least this way I know they are safe."  
  
"Fine." John turned to the Telly and hit play. Much to John’s surprise Sherlock behaved himself during the film and only made seven snide comments regarding continuity. When the movie ended John stood up and stretched.

“Right then… Goodnight.” John looked down and for a fleeting moment felt more than just admiration for the man sprawling out on the sofa.  His fingers twitched as he fought the sudden impulse to run his fingers through the mass of curls just out of his reach.

“Goodnight.” Sherlock stared up at John, his expression unreadable. John stiffened his shoulders and left the room, headed to his bedroom. Reaching his door he sighed and rested his against the door and kicked himself. He wanted to tear down the stairs and plant a kiss on those annoying lips.

The next few days passed much the same, only Sherlock’s mood was worse than ever. He spent most of his time bent over the same stack of, now crumpled, papers. Furiously writing away. Tuesday morning came, and much like any morning after his shower, John sat in his chair with the morning paper. He flicked through the personal ads, more out of morbid curiosity than need. Just as he was about to toss the paper down in favor of his tea when an ad caught his attention.

John must have gasped, or raised an eyebrow, or even bloody breathed the wrong way. Because Sherlock looked up from his microscope and arched an eyebrow at John.

“Everything alright? Potential case?” Sherlock asked with an air of hopefulness.

“Errm… no.” John quickly flipped the page and cleared his throat. John could feel Sherlock’s eyes boring into the back of his head, but Sherlock thankfully remained quite. John casually finished the paper then stood.

“Going out for a bit. Do we need anything at the shops?”

“Mmm. Tea, milk, and jammy dodgers.” John nodded and headed upstairs to get changed. Once on the tube he took his notebook out of his coat pocket and began to write. He headed to the nearest newspaper office and submitted his ad to appear in tomorrow’s paper. He left before he had the chance to change his mind and pull the ad. John took his time getting the shopping and arrived back home mid afternoon.   
  
Sherlock glanced up from the table, still bent over his microscope and watched silently as John put the food away.

“Were the local shops closed?” Clearly Sherlock was not impressed with how long John had been gone.

“Errm. No.” John gave Sherlock a questioning look as he began making a sandwich. “Want one?”  
  
“No.”

“Sherlock, honestly. I’m not going to let you steal half of mine when I’m not looking. Do you want a sandwich?” John gave Sherlock his most I’m-not-taking-your-crap-today look and sighed when Sherlock simply shrugged.

“Fine. I’m making you one.”

“Fine.” Sherlock stared at John, expressionless.

“Fine.” John slapped together a sandwich and slid the plate across the table.

“Eat it.” And just like that he took his own plate and retreated to his room.

The next morning John checked the paper with trembling fingers. He forced himself to his usual routine, but his mind couldn’t focus on the business section. He skimmed over the other personal ads and his heart fluttered nervously when he saw his ad.

Before he had a chance to wonder if the ad would be noticed Sherlock walked past him and plopped unceremoniously into his chair.

“Finished?” He reached over the space between them and grabbed the paper out of John’s hands.

“Apparently so.” John looked down and realized that Sherlock’s feet were touching his, and they were icy cold.

“Christ! Don’t you ever wear socks?” John rubbed his feet up against Sherlock’s trying to rub some warmth back into them.

“Nope.” Sherlock accentuated the p and shot John a grin over the top of the paper. “Why would I when I have you?”

“True.” John smiled, and for a moment considered not going to the pub tonight. He loved what he had with Sherlock, and if he thought about it, he knew he could be happy with this for the rest of his life.

“I’m going out tonight.” Sherlock said abruptly. “Molly called, she has a fresh cadaver. Said I can test how long it takes for his toes to freeze when dipped in nitrogen.”

“Well, far be it from me to keep you from your date.” John chuckled. “Be home by midnight, and don’t let him take advantage of you.”

“Of course, John.” Sherlock smiled his for-John-only smile that made the corner of his eyes crinkle and they lapsed into a comfortable silence.

The afternoon passed slowly, John even indulged Sherlock's boredom by playing cluedo with him. Sherlock played by the rules, mostly, and John managed to win two of their three games. At 6:30 Sherlock began cleaning up the game pieces, avoiding John's gaze.

"Right then, enjoy your date. Might help to buy him dinner first. You know, before you freeze his toes." John took the game from Sherlock's hand and put it away.

"John, he's dead.  Dinner would be wasted on him."

"Then you two have something in common." John quickly realized how that could be taken the wrong way. "Not saying you're dead. Just you don't eat much..."

"Clearly." Sherlock almost looked amused as he wrapped his scarf around his neck. "I'll be back late, no need to wait up."

"Right." John nodded, thinking to himself that if all went well tonight, he'd be back late himself. He had time to spare, so he decided to take a shower. That ate up a half hour. He paced the flat for ten minutes before heading to his room.  Stepping to his wardrobe he smiled as he pulled out a navy blue suit. He dressed, and worried away the remainder of the time by fussing over his hair, his suit, his tie, and changing his shoes three times.

At 7:50 he grabbed his keys and practically ran out of the flat. Reaching the street he forced himself to slow down, The Beehive was only a 6 minute walk, being just down Crawford on the other end of Baker Street.

He arrived a few minutes early, and stood outside the pub awkwardly suddenly finding himself extremely nervous. Gathering his courage he stood tall and pulled the door open. There were only a few people at the bar, most of them with their backs towards him, but he instantly recognized the figure of his flatmate. How very like Sherlock, to deduce he had a date, and come to ruin it. Balling his hands into a fist he walked up to Sherlock and cleared his throat, ready to tell the detective to get lost.

"I sincerely hopped it was you." Sherlock turned around. A soft smile played over his lips, a red carnation stuck through one of his buttonholes on his jacket. John relaxed as that smile washed over him, suddenly realizing that he had wanted it to be Sherlock all along.

"You?" John whispered, suddenly caught off guard as Sherlock placed a hand on his forearm.

"Yes." Sherlock's eyes glanced down at the flower attached to his coat then crinkled as a wide smile spread across his sharp cheekbones. "Alright?"

"Oh god yes. I wanted…” John shook his head. “No, needed, it to be you." He grinned and cupped Sherlock's face in his hands, rising on his tiptoes to press a much needed kiss to Sherlock's lips. It was everything John had expected it to be, only better. Sherlock's lips were soft and plumb beneath his, and they parted slightly making room for Sherlock's tongue to sweep over John's bottom lip. A spark ignited in the base of John's skull and he momentarily forgot that he was in public as he moaned into the kiss.

"Shall we finish this at home?" Sherlock chuckled, pulling away from John's greedy lips. Winking when John inadvertently let out a whimper and clapped a hand over his mouth while giving a short nod.

“Come on.” Sherlock slipped his arm through John’s and lead him out of the bar. Once on the street Sherlock slipped his hand around John’s waist, gently leading him back towards their home. They walked in silence, each casting shy smiles at each other, and quickly averting their gaze before the other hand a chance to notice.

Sherlock slipped his key into the lock. He had only just turned the doorknob when John's hands were on him and he was violently being pushed into the darkened hall. With a grunt John kicked the door shut behind him and pushed Sherlock against the nearest surface, which happened to be the wall next to the stairs. John grabbed both of Sherlock’s wrists and pinned them to the wall above Sherlock’s head.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” John grunted, his mouth pressed against Sherlock’s ear.

“Since our first day together.” Sherlock gasped, open mouthed.

“Since our first day.” John confirmed. He pressed rough, needy kisses along Sherlock’s jaw line and the corners of his mouth. “Upstairs. Now.”

They tripped over each other on their ascent up the stairs, neither of them willing to let go for even a moment. With a laugh they fell into the kitchen. John flashed Sherlock a wolfish grin as Sherlock shut the door with his foot.

“Well, you said upstairs. Technically speaking, John, this is upstairs.” Sherlock grinned and pushed his head up off the floor, stealing a kiss as John began pealing his belstaff off, but not before carefully reaching up and placing the carnation safely on the table.

“Now, your ad mentioned something about worshiping my body?” John bit down lightly on Sherlock’s neck, reveling in the moan that resounded and vibrated against his lips.

“John…” The broken cry was music to John’s ear, who by now had Sherlock’s shirt torn open and was desperately raking his fingers down Sherlock’s pale chest.

“Bedroom. Now!” John again ordered a change in room, this time helping Sherlock up off the floor. He grabbed Sherlock’s hips, pushing him towards the bedroom devouring Sherlock’s lips as they walked. John pushed Sherlock down on the bed and shed his suit jacket before crawling over him.

“You’ve no idea how often I’ve wanted to escape with you. How often I’ve wanted to shut you up by slamming you against a wall and forcing you to be quiet because your lips were too busy kissing me to speak. You’ve no idea how often my late night fantasies have been of you, wide eyed and writhing in pleasure as I eat you out. Or how often after a case I silently begged to you unleash your left over energy on my cock.” John crawled over Sherlock, his body low, rubbing his chest against Sherlock’s.

“Enough talk!” Sherlock growled up at John, gyrating his hips up against John. “Fuck me, John. You know you want too.”

John needed no further encouragement. He tore Sherlock’s shirt completely off, unbuckled his belt and in one quick motion pulled Sherlock’s trousers and pants off.

“Big boy….” John moaned and licked a stripe up the length of Sherlock’s swollen cock. John reached into his back pocket and withdrew his wallet, from  which he withdrew a small foil package.

“My my, John… someone was hopeful that their date would go well.” Sherlock chuckled, reaching up and pulling at John’s clothes.

“Yeah well, seems I got lucky.” John muttered. He opened his zip and shoved his pants down and rolled the condom on his already leaking cock. John hastily kicked off the rest of this clothes and grabbed Sherlock’s legs.

“Do you need…?” John began, attempting to ask Sherlock if he needed any preparation first.

“No!” Sherlock huffed impatiently rolled his eyes at John. “I took care of that earlier.”

John scooched closer and bent over Sherlock’s body, pressing their lips together as he pressed the tip of his cock against Sherlock’s puckered entrance. As he pushed in with his cock he thrust his tongue deep into Sherlock’s mouth. He pushed in slowly, savoring each gasp and whimper escaping the detective’s mouth. He toyed with the curls at the nape of Sherlock’s neck as he began his slow worship of Sherlock’s body.

Each one of his movements was thought out and executed with extreme care. It wasn’t that John was afraid of hurting Sherlock, it was that John needed to express how deep his love for Sherlock ran. Sherlock’s hands clawed at John’s back, grabbing a fist full of the shirt that was torn open and hanging off of John’s shoulders.

“Joh…” Sherlock grunted and writhed beneath John. He rubbed his cheek along the side of John’s neck

“I’ve got you, luv.” John muttered, rolling his hips into Sherlock.

“More, John… please?” Sherlock muttered, using John’s shirt as leverage and quickening the pace by rocking back in forth in time with John. “I need more.”

“As you wish, luv.” John placed wet opened mouth kisses along Sherlock’s neck and thrust harder and faster, grunting as waves of pleasure rippled through his body. “Like this though, it’s not going to last long.” John grunted, as he felt the pleasure take hold.

“Just… more, John!” Sherlock’s eyes were blown open in pleasure, fully giving in to the pleasure he’d been coveting for far too long. He slipped his hands beneath John’s shirt and raked his fingernails down John’s back as John thrust into his prostate. “Fuck! Right there, John! Do that again!”

“Right…” John gave Sherlock a wolfish grin and thrust again. “there?”  Sherlock’s reply was a low moan,full of want. His body twitched and his gasp became a shout as John’s hand began to stroke his cock.

“John!” Sherlock shouted, an attempt to let John know he was close.

“Mmm that’s right, Sherlock.” John grunted, sweat dripping from his forehead into his eyes. “Cum for me.”  John twisted his wrist and snapped his hips, throwing his head back as he felt the familiar tug at the base of his groin.

“Love you, John…” Sherlock’s eyes softened for a fraction of a second as they locked eyes.

“I love you too, Sherlock.” And then with one final thrust both of their eyes were blown wide open as he came deep inside the warmth of Sherlock’s body while Sherlock spilled his seed between their bodies. John collapsed on top of Sherlock and buried his face in the crook of his neck. After a moment John came to his sense and he discarded the used condom and curled his body around Sherlock.

“You of all people should know, Sherlock. That I don’t like one night stands.” John muttered into Sherlock’s neck, sighing as Sherlock’s hand found its way into his hair.

“And you should know, John, that I won’t let go of you now that I have you.” Sherlock muttered, sleep taking hold of him.

“Sleep well, my love.” John kissed Sherlock’s cheek and pulled the blankets up around them.


End file.
